


Job Satisfaction

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Grey World, Auror Harry, Desk Sex, F/M, Frottaging, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Hermione is 19, Hermione is in a love square, Libidinous Lucius, Loyal Ginny, Loyal Harry, Multi, No Weasley Bashing, Possessive Tom Riddle, Professor Tom Riddle, Protective Snape, Reformed Death Eaters, School Governor Lucius Malfoy, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, new world order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: The Dark Lord has nine lives even beyond his destroyed Horcruxes thanks to his essence from the cup leaking into the water then being lapped up by Crookshanks who -Well...Tom is the name for a male cat is it not?Cat's always land on their feet.Cats were worshipped.When Tom finds out who worships this particular Tom cat (it is revealed Crookshanks has secrets of his own) - like his refusal to like Ron Weasley for one, and how Crookshanks proves that? By allowing Lucius Malfoy to apparate with him holding his arms, and her parents in stunned confusion to St Mungo'...Though that was not before he extracted the essence from a Horcrux - to revive his Lord.The new Lord was now HOT - and was sure to want his fill of the ladies but... he has his eye on one and only one...The indomitible Miss Hermione Jean Granger.His Queen. His Savior. His new obsession possession and apprentice.





	1. May-Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hollowg1rl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollowg1rl/gifts).



> Tracie Holmes on FB designed the aesthetic

**MAY-DAY**

 

This was just typical. I become primordial ooze due to two meddling teenagers and the tooth of my once beautiful Basilisk only to land in the mouth of the statue of Salazar Slytherin, my illustrious ancestor – and to be lapped up by a feline who looked like he'd smashed into one too many brick walls in his time was a humiliation too far. 

To add to the shame, I am now sitting on a cushion, lapping up milk whilst waiting for Lucius Malfoy to collect various ingredients and finding the right spell. This was too much for me to take. All I can say is that at least the animal I am within has some spark of intelligence about him. It was a shock to discover that cats were passionate creatures and had their likes and dislikes. I have never felt so entertained in my life by what I found out within his tiny mind. The desire to laugh was never so strong within me by the discovery that he despised the youngest Weasley male and was quite the schemer. The intricate plots he devised within his animal mind was intriguing, and all to sabotage the idiotic burgeoning relationship between his ambitious Mistress and the red-haired whelp she had set her eyes on. It was odd to be in accord with a creature other than a serpent. I decided I liked this cat.

His _Mistress_ , I smirked at the revelation of who his Mistress was. The cat held her in the highest esteem. The way I was once held by my own familiar. I looked into the cats mind to find out more about her.

Images of being stroked on a warm lap, purring contentedly assaulted me, still I remained calm. I had to admit I also never felt as relaxed as I did when I viewed _the_ most interesting scene of them all. The young witch was sat cross-legged in the middle of a bed made of patchwork quilts and blankets, as the picture grew I noticed she was in a colouRrful cosy bedroom with two single beds. She was stroking the cat (me) and he was purring in the dip of her lap, the book she was reading hovering in the air with a quill and parchment besides it as she dictated notes from the book onto the parchment. It was a serene, calming picture. That was not what grabbed my attention though, what did was what the witch was, (or wasn’t) wearing. 

Arrayed as she was in soft pink silk short pyjamas, the hem of her shorts were tightly hugging her thighs and the vest top straps were slipping down her pale creamy shoulders. Shoulders that begged to be nipped and massaged by the hands of a man. A proper wizard.

However, like all sweet scenes of peace, a discord had to be found somewhere. The harmony broken by the entrance of the youngest Weasley boy. I could feel waves of hate consume the feline. The cat really did _despise_ him. The emotion was not shared by his owner though, as she practically glowed and preened under the sight of this boy’s blue-eyed gaze.

Thankfully, the brat-who-lived also entered the room and briefly glanced at the empty bed as if hoping the owner was in it. So, the Potter boy had grown and found out what girls were for, had he? A small amount of pride entered my heart at this thought, I may have tried to kill him and without part of my soul in him he was just an average boy, but at least I managed to teach him things along the way. 

The cat also looked at the boy with a glint of respect. It turned out that the cat had a familial love towards Potter. Why was that? Oh... ah, _that_ was why, this was the kitten that... how interesting! There was already a shard of my soul here. It was that little piece that latched onto her. Oh, this was delicious, delightfully so, for I shall actually be resurrected in a body worthy of my greatness.

My servant returned to me complete with spells, a new wand, and potions ingredients.

_I trust everything went well, Lucius?_ I asked through Legilimency.

The blond heaved a world-weary sigh: “Everything is as you said it would be.” 

Normally I would have taken him to task for his lack of respect, but I was aware that I had to change tactics to gain allegiances now. I could no longer follow the Pureblood agenda, that had not worked so well. I had to seek followers gained on personality and magical worth. Those were what made the best soldiers I discovered, _they_ were the ones who fought tooth and claw to remain part of this world, like I once had to prove my worth. Lucius was not a dolt, he could adapt and change as well as a Chameleon Magickus, the ones who can actually camouflage themselves as opposed to the common muggle breed. I would keep Lucius, I decided, but first I'd have to de-activate the Mark and think of something else less garish. 

Lucius was neat, precise, and executed everything flawlessly. Even managed to keep the cat alive which would work well in my favour. I was back to myself. Truly how I looked at the time of Lucius birth. 

“Lucius,” I sighed as I twirled glorifying in my nakedness in front of a mirror. “This was how I _should_ have appeared the first time. You did well, I shall forgive your lack of judgement at the battle. I shall also forgive your wife for her lie and your son shall no longer be troubled by me. I find myself in a magnanimous mood. However,” I could taste the anticipation in my follower’s air, he glanced up furtively turning his eyes to the nearest escape route and my presence. I was not offended, I was humoured by his fear. “I shall tell you that, from here on, there will be no more Pureblood agenda! I shall rise to power, but I will need to change tactics. My first priority now is to mate and _pro_ create with A deserving Witch. Do you know whom that may be?”

Lucius arched an eyebrow: “I have no insight into your magnificent mind,” he bowed. 

“There is only one witch clever, beautiful, and tender enough to fulfil that role.” 

“Do you wish me to obtain the witch?”

“No, Lucius, no. I shall disappear until August I think. Carve a new name for myself, an identity. I shall need to be prepared for my meeting with her,” I turned on my heel to see Crookshanks breathing gently in his sleep. “Earn your way into her favour, Lucius, I will need you on my side in this next existence.” 

“Who is the lucky Slytherin?” 

“Lucius,” I said with a hint of warning. “What did I say about Pureblood agenda?” 

“That it is no longer our concern,” he wrinkled his perfect brow, “so then, who is it?”

“Only the most famous Muggleborn,” I grinned. “Work hard to curry her favour, Lucius, I know you can charm the birds off the trees, I want her prised away from that Weasley dolt or close to being aggravated with him enough for me to swoop in and dazzle her. Return her familiar to her, he has done me a great turn and I always reward those that do.”

“The ca...” 

“Half-Kneazle, Lucius, this is more than just a cat.” 

“Do you have a name already?” 

“That is what I need to work out,” I said. “Reward the witch too, perhaps pay for her education. The Kneazle told me she sacrificed her parents memories of her to protect them. She will need financial support.”

“Yes sir,” he said – I suppose that would have to do. I was no longer him. I would not be recognisable to anyone else. “Do you wish me to Apparate you somewhere?” 

“Little Hangleton,” I replied, “I will gather a new plan and name and work from there.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

That was how I found myself sitting in the drawing room of my despicable Muggle home, doing what I once did as a teenager. Scraps of parchment were balled and thrown around the floor. I forgot how time-consuming working out a name from the one I already possess took. Three hours! The first three hours of my third life was spent in this gruelling endeavour. Especially as this time I had to factor in the Gaunt to make it work. Finally, I looked at the final product making sure I had used all the letters only once. I must admit I was rather pleased with the result, no one would suspect. Now all I had to do was go to Paris, learn French and research the family from whom my new surname belongs to.

I was already familiar with basic French, so I should be able to pick it up easily. This was going to be an intense Spring to Summer, but I can fit in rather easily anywhere I go. May the Fifth dawned, it was this day that I was on my way to France via unaided flight.


	2. Violence of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Voldemort goes to France to carve out a new identity with new wand and every other thing that goes with that and looks up his new 'family' and finds some interesting things about Hermione instead - he then goes to Hogwarts and cements, not only his reputation but as a man of action and romance, rescuing both Hermione and Severus... Who knew Dark Lords could be heroic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by Duran Duran's: Violence of Summer - a song that Hermione would most definitely be humming! It was out in 1990.
> 
> I will place an image later, perhaps someone can make me one?
> 
> (I apologise for the length of the chapter but Tom Riddle does like a good natter, honestly, he is an awful gossip! Also, please forgive spelling errors and grammatical mistakes, I had a lot to correct and I do not have a beta or alpha at present --- this is the result after me going through with a fine toothcomb for days!!)

**Violence of Summer**

 

_Those lips will make me right.._   
_You may look down but don't think twice (ooh-oh)_   
_So death is on the way,_   
_So what man? I still want to play...._

**Duran Duran’s**

**(Violence of Summer**

_Songwriters: Sterling Campbell / Warren Cuccurullo / Simon Le Bon / Nick Rhodes / John Taylor_

_Violence Of Summer lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songs Music Publishing_ **)**

 

**May-August 1998**

I landed in the Rue de Sorcerie – the Parisian version of Diagon Alley – to purchase a wand. Madam Violetta Beauvais, a rather attractive witch, whom I could play and flirt with easily, custom-made my new wand. I charged it to Lucius account of course. At last, I had my new weapon.

Rather interestingly a mixture of woods; one rare and powerful, the other dark and intoxicating. The core itself was exotic and nearly illegal in Britain. As for the length: 14 inches, ah – if only my natural wand were as big. It was a sturdy though feisty material. One that required a strong, stubborn owner. It fit my personality perfectly. I drooled over the ornate hilt. Without my input the Wandmaker had magically carved; from emerald, the head of a boa constrictor, incidentally my favourite breed. The choice in stone was fitting considering emerald was the birthstone for those born in this month.

“You are clearly a Legilimens,” she said to me in husky French tones. “Also have a knack for Divination, Dark Arts and...” she stopped a little and leaned over the counter, “a powerful figurehead in your own right. What did you say was your name again?” 

I flashed a perfect smile. “Gourde,” was all I replied.

“Oh my,” she batted her eyelashes. “No wonder you have that bâton, Monsieur Gourde. I know you are a man of might and vision.” 

Smirking gleefully, with unconstrained delights, at the guileless compliment the witch had offered me. I paid the obviously panting and palpitating woman the French galleon rate, I kissed the back of her fingers and winked at her. It was an ego boost to realise I could still charm with a smile. Mademoiselle Beauvais was aesthetically and pleasingly pretty, but she did not hold a candle to the one I set my sights on.

My mind immediately took me back to the war, the blood splattered vision as if she was born strictly for the purpose to fight. The picture of her face streaking with the blood of the dead, the bruises on her face and wrists and yet, through all that, she remained a shield maiden. I was more than impressed by her graceful arches of her wand. Her exquisite eyes were aflame with passion. Her conviction burned through her entire being, allowing her to execute the spells with ease, dexterity, and logic. The only other witch that I could connect her to was Bellatrix. Except Hermione was sane from birth.

Hermione held steadfastly to logic and facts. With meticulous strokes she ruthlessly employed her mental prowess efficiently, she only rushed in blindly when her friend Potter led the charge to the fray. She, under my influence, would make a beautiful warrior. Her compassion would, I believe, make a suitable mother to my child. Her organised mind would make certain that she will be a clever wife for me. 

“Thank you for your most wondrous service, Madam, I shall reward you when the time is right,” with that I swept out of the shop. 

Through June I was researching. Spending many days in the pursuit of knowledge in the _La Bibliotheque Magie François_ awfully tedious though it may have been, but I knew that I needed to understand every aspect of the Gourde family; _nouveau riche_ but pure save for a few Muggleborns here and there. Something took my eye, Selene Lestrange (squib) marries Jeremiah Granger (muggle) in 1887. I traced that line down to Alexander Granger marrying Helena Katsaros (squib and 2 nd Generation Greek émigré) – One daughter: Hermione Jean (Katsaros) Granger. Awkwardly I coughed as I shuffled in my seat, she was just a touch purer than I thought, she was related to the Lestranges. No wonder she and Bella were well-matched warriors this was an uncommonly exciting discovery. This fit into my plans beautifully. _My Lady_ , indeed, for there was no doubt in my mind she and I can rule the Wizarding World with our strengths and now her bloodline.

The month of July was spent brewing potions to sell on the side so that I can buy clothes and get used to my new identity. It was strange at first introducing myself as Monsieur L’or Gourde. I claimed a decent reputation as a potions brewer and charm breaker, I worked hard. I had to have a good stash set by to open a vault in Gringotts – and to probably buy Hermione lovely things, I will adorn my Queen in nothing but the best. I cannot always expect Lucius to fund my hobbies. Those days are over, seriously, over…well, probably. I cannot promise anything. 

All the better to think that now the truest obstacle is now out of my way. I can woo once again. On August the second I was back in the UK. I had an identity to establish, a job to secure, a witch to take as mine, and I still had to bring Potter to his knees. The end of July I had finished brewing the one potion that truly mattered.

With this purpose of heart, on the third of August I found myself outside Malfoy Manor. The gates were reluctant but eventually allowed me in. It was strange fidgeting on the porch of a house I could claim as mine if I wanted to. With shaking fingers, I was vigorously ringing the doorbell. Eventually the large oak doors creaked open, I looked down and found a squeaky elf mumbling about how empty the Manor was. I pulled a little on the sleeves of the brand-new light purple robes and demanded to be taken to Lucius Malfoy. When the elf realised I meant business he immediately took hold of my outer robes and clicked his fingers to transport me in to Lucius' study. The blond man’s jaw was practically dislocated it was hung so low in shock. 

“The formula really worked?” he queried in awe as he lithely stepped around his broad walnut oak desk. “You are fully back into your own body. So hale and hearty, sir.” 

“Thank you, Lucius, you look a little smug considering your wife left you, might I ask for whom she left you for?” 

“Oh, Cissy and I were never in love – so it is inconsequential.” 

I rolled my eyes at his remarkably _sang-froid_ calm over the deterioration of his marriage, I decided to let it pass: “How is the building work going?”

“Hogwarts needs more magical strength behind it,” Lucius sighed rubbing the spot where the eyes met the nose, “I have thrown money at it – barely a dent when I now own the Lestrange vault as they had no blood member to leave it all too and as some of it is Black wealth it reverted by default to Narcissa and Draco, both of whom stated the school needed it more than them.” 

“Good, so Draco and Narcissa has already ingratiated themselves back in society?”

“We all have,” Lucius said, “Minerva was most desperate – she needed all the support she could get so,” he sat back spreading his hands wide, “here I am back as Head of the Board of School Governors with a proviso that I provide names of all the Death Eaters – I have done so bit by bit – The Head of the Aurors. An efficient, if a bit clumsy, witch by the name of Mythandra Posnok is now in charge. She prefers to be referred to as Auror Py.”

I chuckled – it seemed Lucius was going on a one-man crusade to sleep with as many witches as he could now he was free of Narcissa: “You should be a cat, Lucius, they always land on their feet. The new Auror – is she tough?” 

“Trained by the late Mad-Eye Moody.”

“Hmm, well, we have to display our Sunday manners do we not, my feline.”

“Speaking of feline creatures,” Lucius sighed. “I _personally_ handed the ginger mop to Miss Granger and she showed her gratitude rather warmly, if I can rightly say so.” 

I could not tolerate the smirk. “Being smug is not an attractive quality, Lucius,” I reminded him. 

Dismissively, Lucius waved his hand in the air: “Apologies…but it was just after my wife walked out of my life for Kingsley Shacklebolt,” ah, and I bet my tender Witch sucked in his sob story. “I am sorry, but I am at a loss as to how to address you now you are no longer...” 

“Call me _Monsieur_ for now, it is close to Master, I will only allow my witch to call me my new name.”

“May I enquire...” 

“You may, but you won't get it. I request a letter of recommendation – it turns out, dear boy, we are distant cousins. Family must _always_ look out for one another must we not?” 

He paled considerably. Immediately, he ran back to his seat, elegantly sat. Once he was comfortable he flourished an eagle feather quill from his sleeves. Smoothly, he unrolled an empty roll of parchment, calculated what he needed and with exact precision he cut the section off. 

“I am going to need your name, Sir, for the letter of introduction.” 

I hissed out a swearword but told him anyway. He smirked an enigmatic gleam in the centre of his pupil. Then he bent his flaxen weed head and began scratching in earnest. No matter how fast he wrote I knew the end result would result in effortless elegance. Half an hour later I was handed a well-composed letter. A letter that will change my life. Alter many lives actually. 

“When you say _thanked you_ rather warmly...” I asked. 

Lucius imitable trade mark smirk grew wider, the lines around his eyes deepened and his eyes were positively gleaming with delight: “Let's just say I managed to wean her of _useless_ Ginger brats.” 

“So, she is no longer an item with the youngest boy whelp?” 

“No, they broke it off when he got jealous over how much she gushed over me for not only returning her cat but her parents also.” 

Damn, he had taken a step out of my strategy. No matter, he got one night of pleasure, I can say that is his reward and hope he would not needle another out of me. 

“Your letter, Monsieur,” he said closing off his quill and laying it on a silver tray. “I must say I do like your new wand.” 

“It is more exotic than some,” I twirled it between my fingers, “I rather love it. Now,” I sighed. “Off to Hogwarts and flirt with the old wildcat.”

“I do not know,” Lucius smiled. “I have to confess I had a crush on Minerva when young.” 

“I know you did,” I said coldly. “I shall see you, Lucius, and do not think of having another round with Miss Granger. You should know that now she is off limits.” 

“Monsieur,” Lucius said with a tilt of his head.

That was sorted. As soon as I entered the Apparition line I soon found myself in a mainly recovered Hogsmeade. Some houses held an empty feel, and some shops were boarded up permanently but the ones that mattered stayed resilient. It was good to see branches of shops only known to Diagon Alley here too. The weather was a warm 25 degrees, so I shed my outer-cloak and held it over my shoulder as I took leisurely steps up, and around the twisting hilly path to Hogwarts. Mustn't arouse their suspicions, after all.

Once I got to the stronghold, I witnessed again how united the Order and DA’s were. It was almost habitable and back to her former glory, they certainly _had_ been busy bee's. I stood there transfixed by the image of my home – almost in tears by her beauty – speaking of strong and beautiful things I scanned the hectic scene with my penetrating gaze. It was then I saw her, standing apart from Potter – whose tongue was down Ginevra's throat. Well, it seemed she needn't have bothered sobbing over my diary about whether he liked her or not. Only one other Weasley was in sight – a stocky but good-looking boy – this must be the Dragon Whisperer. His shadow fell over the lovey-dovey pair and startled them both back to work.

Where had she disappeared to? Moments later, after turning the corner to where Ravenclaw tower was, I noticed that she was at the top of the parapet, directing operations with clear orders I could hear from here, her voice faint but skill in making anyone do her bidding was just too sexy for me not to admire what I could see of her. She took to leadership like a duck to water, she glared at the Zabini boy as he leant a little too close for her comfort whispering something in her ear that visibly displeased her. I was about to employ unassisted flight to interrupt the boy as he tried to gain the attentions of my Queen.

That was not what made me stifle a gasp. Crookshanks had brought my attention to his mistress’ weaknesses, some of her fears matched to some of my own anxiety. What was an acrophobic doing all the way up there?  Never had I felt nervous in behalf of another being in my life, she did not know unaided flight, what if she were to slip and fall? Not only would the world lose a great power, but my plans would go up in smoke. 

She was dangerously close to the lower wall between turrets – supporting only up to her waist-height. Some incompetent twit was losing control of a large brick. A boulder was converging imminently towards her. It was like a strange spell had kept me in place – everyone around me also appeared stuck in position. No one was capable of moving. Like an invisible mage had silently cast a powerful _petrificus totalus_ amongst the crowd. The hulking colossal rock crashed into her stomach, my heart leapt to my throat as I watched her topple over the wall about to descend to the ground. The strange influence had lifted from our shoulders now. Like most things when there is someone many people care about is in danger a faux-hive-mind takes over. In accord everyone held their wands shouting useless spells in an attempt to catch the witch tumbling through the air. 

It was I that saved the girl with a maximum strength _Wingardium Leviosa_. Gracefully, she floated through the air, spreading her arms out like a bird. She landed in an elegant heap at my feet coughing up blood from the blunt trauma that someone up there had forced upon her. 

“Wha...” she blinked. 

“Goodness,” Minerva's Scottish accent jarred what would have been one of my finest moments, “I am so glad you were here... Mr... er...”

I bowed and handed my letter to her. I enjoyed the old cat’s expressive eyebrows shoot almost up to her hairline as she eagerly devoured my credentials. Whilst Minerva was occupied with my missive, I turned my attentions to Miss Granger, shivering on the ground. Trembling limbs from the fright made her curl herself in a foetal position to calm down. With shaking hands she brushed her awesome hair from her face, coyly she glanced up at me with watery but grateful eyes and an uncertain grimace at her mouth. In that moment she was a thief who had sucked in my air, her eyes were beautiful. 

Her true self shone through those amber orbs and I was almost on my knees; the majesty of her power had been punched into the centre of my soul. My heart thrummed harshly against my chest by her honest and grateful tawney gaze. Her appreciation of my efforts to save her life rolled out in waves and I revelled in her outward pleasure, for a moment there I also felt a shimmer of lust between us. Though I did not wish to break this tranquil energy between us I knew I had to. McGonagall had assessed the situation and immediately turned mother hen to her favourite chick. At least the woman had some taste. Others rushed to the scene to make sure my Queen was well. It was as if I was the only one who had seen the true situation, realised how much danger Hermione had just experienced. Her popularity reassured me as I can feed off of that, it was satisfying to watch at least fifty people of mingled ages surrounding my injured Lady.

“My.” Hermione hacked up more blood. She picked up some grass and elongated the stems and turned them into a handkerchief. Something, I admit, I should have considered for her. She wiped her maw clean of the crimson liquid that beautifully stained her chin and lips. Gingerly, she crawled back up to her feet in a few quivering moves. “I thought Knights in Shining Armour existed only in fairy tales,” she muttered swaying from shock, quickly I caught her with my hands around her waist I was delighted to see her grab my shoulders to make certain she was stable on her feet – she glanced up at me with those wide, nutty caramel eyes. “You are...”

“Well, I must say this is quite... I am sure your credentials stand,” Minerva said also now supporting Hermione by the waist. “As you can see, we are in a tight spot and desperately in need of help, do you think you could stay for the duration? Whilst my Potions Master and Deputy Head is recuperating I have to make all the decisions myself.”

So, the old rogue, Snape seemed to be as un-killable as Potter and I. Good, glad he survived. He won't be punished either. I still need him for his brain power. I did regret it after all, and I was pleased that, for once, I failed.

“I am, of course, delighted to see the great Hogwarts. Pictures of her destruction welled pity within my heart, Madam. I wish to be of service any way I can?”

“Of course, er, Monsieur Gourde.”

“Please,” I raised her wrinkled but soft hand to my lips and kissed her middle knuckle, “my name in full is Matthias Dolman Vu L'or Gourde.” I turned then to Hermione who had regained her demeanour well. “Mademoiselle, in France it is said a beautiful woman is a man's ruin – I do hope I can be the man ruined by you someday – may I know the appellation of such a creature as you?” 

She blushed, I am sure she had never been spoken of in such terms before now and I was right to see that she was one who admired poetry.

“Hermione,” she said shyly. Oh, how prettily you blush, I mused as I gave her a cursory glance. The white jean shorts showed of gorgeous limbs, the double layer red and pink tank top straps caressed round creamy shoulders, her dirty white trainers even managed to show off soft ankles. What lovely legs, I sighed, I thought of those limbs entwined around my waist. “My name is Hermione, Monsieur L'or Gourde.” 

“To you,  _Mon petit_ _Cherie_ , you alone sweet goddess of the sky, can call me Matthias.”

She smiled and glanced down awkwardly on the grass. Even a night in Lucius arms and she doubted her desirability? That was when I saw it... Bellatrix's wand... poking out of waistband of her shorts, laying against her hip. Definitely a witch worthy of baring the heir of Slytherin. The fact that she had mastered such a dark and stubborn wand was incredible.

“Matthias, then, thank you for saving my life,” she slowly turned her head to hear Whelps boisterous voice demanding to know where she was. “I'm sorry,” she said as if he was her responsibility. “He's my ex – he took _one_ kiss and a few dates to mean I should _immediately_ marry and have kids. Even his mother despairs of this situation and tells him to leave me if I required it so.” 

“No matter Mon Cherie,” I replied in earnest. “The tender hearts of youth are easily bruised, it will take him time to heal from a broken heart, maybe twice so since it was an angel that shattered it.”

Hermione was easily charmed. It was no wonder everyone held her in high regard, she was easy to like, it was beautiful for my plan that she was so. I plan on an eternity with this witch – I am pleased she is affable, warm, and compassionate. Opposites, they say, attract after all. We are as opposite as two people could get.

A girl ran up to Hermione, blonde hair flying behind her, goggly blue eyes shining with worry. Her arms, seemingly of their own accord, flung themselves around Hermione's neck: “I just saw and heard, oh Hermione, are you all right? Did you hurt...” 

“Everything is fine, Luna,” Hermione laughed then rubbed her mid-riff and winced. “Mostly, at any rate.” She should see a Healer, but no doubt Hermione was too stubborn for that. “Monsieur L’or Gourde saved me.” 

“Monsieur...”

“That is I,” I said stepping forward placing a hand on Hermione's lower back. “Who may I be speaking to who likes Hermione so?”

“Lovegood,” she said. “Hermione, my sister, I exhort you! Please, be more careful. I have a strong feeling something terrible is going to happen to you soon, I am no seer, but I trust what the air has told me, you _need_ to be extra careful this year, please do not be alone in dark places in the school. I promise you I am speaking the truth.” 

I believed her, turning to Luna, I had to ask: “How terrible?” 

“I have already told you that I am not a seer,” Luna said. “I do, however, understand the portents of the air and the feelings auras can erupt in special circumstances and I-I-I,” the rather oddly pretty young woman stammered as she tried to find other ways to explain her _unusual_ talent. An impatient sigh escaped my lips, thoroughly expressed through an arched eyebrow and a soft cough, as a signal that she should stop stuttering. _Get on with what you have to say, girl_! “I just,” she sighed, irritated that she had to put something so _complicated_ in a few _simple_ words. I was sure she’d manage. “Hermione, the war may be over but there are still dangers, please. You are so kind, compassionate, thoughtful and beautiful – please do not...”

Laughing freely Hermione hugged Luna close to her and I was jealous of the other girl: “Do not worry, Luna, I survived Bellatrix and Voldemort, I think I can take care of myself.” 

With that Hermione flicked her overly bushy hair over her shoulder and limped away, Luna closely following at her heels shouting: “You’re one of my few friends, Hermione, I do not want you to need to take care of yourself! I want to take care of you, you always put others above yourself…” The rest of her loyal speech trailed as they crested a hill.   

I was suddenly, and awkwardly, left alone with Minerva. A young witch I tried to earmark for my campaign in the early fifties but, again, Albus thwarted my attempt to get to the handsome witch. She was still handsome in age. In her eyes there was a twinkle of youth. I could suddenly understand Lucius’ crush on her as a student. They would have made a powerful pair.

“The school is fit to teach in, Monsieur L'or Gourde,” Minerva sighed. I observed her calmly as she rubbed her head, displaying signs of the beginnings of a migraine. “I do wish Severus would awaken, I...” 

“I may be able to help him,” I said. 

“Oh, could you?” 

Possessed with joy, Minerva grasped my hands in hers beaming up at me. “He is in the school hospital. The nurse is quite protective of him.” 

“Are they lovers?” I asked. 

“Mercy me, gracious no,” she replied. “She treats him as the son she never had.” 

“Yes,” I said. “Forgive me, in France it is do as the heart says.” 

“In England, or in this case Scotland, we are little more cautious than that,” she said.

In a decided fashion, she took my hand and led me through the school to the Hospital wing where Severus Snape lay more pale and ghastly as I had never seen him. I knew he was not dead, but he was resisting life for some reason. _Oh no, Severus,_ I thought, _you are still needed. I survived and so shall you._  

Once I was in the hospital I saw some of the beds still occupied by the fallen young people recuperating from the war. There was one – a Slytherin – I read the name: Flora Carrow, she was coughing up blood. The pale girl was emaciated and hollow. Perhaps, as a kindness, I shall AK her when no one is watching. No point for the poor girl to suffer further.

Around the corner in a more private ward, was when I saw him. Listlessly he laid, tucked tightly in the white hospital bed. Severus was impossibly pale. He reeked of detergent potions and lemons for some odd reason. Behind him, and around his thin shoulders, lay an inky iridescent spill of lanky hair that was the only hint of colour, the harsh black a startling contrast against the bright stark white hospital sheets. His sickly complexion was as pallid and sallow as ever. If it was not for the slight pink tinge on his lips I would have thought him dead. It was a good thing I was in the Boy Scouts as a Muggle Orphan. Be Prepared, Scouts Honour, pip-pip cheerio Auld Lang-Syne and bacon at the fire and all that. I did all I could to get all the badges. Hogwarts, thankfully, stopped _that_ hypocritical charade. 

I knew what happened, of course, and held the cure in my pocket.  

“What happened?” 

“A vicious snake bite – we are shocked that he survived at all. Only one other has managed to live through the same snake bite.”

“Hmm,” I tapped my finger against my lips. “I know how to rescue him – I take it all other antivenin's have been used?”

“Bezoars, anti-poisons, tinctures, blood replenishers, we have tried anything and everything,” Minerva was in a right flap.  “What could possibly be missing?”

“I don't know,” I said. “There may be a clue if you have a vial of the venom. I will need a potions assistant... anyone you can think of...?”

“Miss Granger,” she puffed her chest out with pride. As well she might, “it was her that managed to pull him out of deaths claw this far. She has been working hard on the castle during the day, visiting her parents in Saint Mungo's in the evening, coming back here and studying into the wee hours of the morning to find a cure for Severus,” hmm, I would have to calm that schedule down for her to become a mother. My children would need a devoted mother; however, they will also need a relaxed parent, I smiled a little at the thought of black curly haired children with dark beguiling eyes able to charm their way out of any given tight spot. “I don’t know how she lives at the moment. She burns her candle at both ends and _still_ manages to smile despite what she's been through. Headstrong wee girl she is, but lovely. Oh, she has her faults as we all do, but her kind heart super-cedes those immensely.”

“Then please, do send for her, I have no objections to working with the young woman.” 

“Send for whom?” her already familiar voice asked. I turned around to the sound of her warm tone, she had her head tilted to the side rather reminding me of a curious King Charles Spaniel. Loathe as I am to use this word it was the right one to describe her: She was adorable. “Who do you want so I can send a Patronus.”

“You actually, Miss Granger,” Minerva gushed, this witch’s pride in Hermione was remarkably present as if it were its own sentient beast. “Monsieur L'or Gourde is in need of a Potions assistant to aid him in curing Severus.” 

“Of course,” she said with a solemn smile on her face. She walked up to the bed and soothed his brow. “Anything for such a great man and wizard.” 

On that point we most certainly could agree on. “Mademoiselle Granger,” I bowed. “I have taken the liberty of bringing the ingredients for the potion with me. News of Voldemort and his familiar travelled far and wide and I prepared myself just in case.” 

“Monsieur thank you, how can I ever thank you!” she enthused with tears standing in the corner of her gorgeous eyes. 

Oh, I do not know, I smirked to myself, perhaps become my Dark Lady and be the mother of my darklings. The young woman was glowing with protective pride as she continued smoothing Severus hair and face. The gooey caramel of her eyes softened to pure admiration for Severus Snape. 

“My friends do not comprehend why I spend so much time nursing a Slytherin – I tell them to get over themselves – that being Slytherin is _not_ synonymous with evil. I can even understand Salazar's doubts about allowing Muggleborns in the school,” her fingers were threading lovingly through his long locks, ones I used to stroke regularly. “Headmaster Snape needs to be shown that not all Gryffindors are superficial and shallow.” 

“I am quite assured from observations so far, as a man who lived in Paris for five years, that I know shallow when I see it. You,  _Mon petit minou_ , are not shallow!” 

Hermione blushed – she loved to be praised, that much I knew. To gain her loyal devotion would be as hard as it was for a little poor girl not to like pink pygmy puffs. Speaking of which, said little poor girl ran in and stopped breathlessly, next to Hermione. Ginevra had grown into her own soft beauty, her fire-hued hair was in a rough braid. Staunchly, she stood close to Hermione acting like a bodyguard. Where her presence was on Ravenclaw’s upper-tower I do not know, neither do I care. Ginny dutifully watched her friend tenderly look after Severus, my favourite acolyte. She was shortly followed by Harry Potter who was practically watering at the mouth at the sight of his girlfriend’s neck. 

“Harry and I are going back to the Burrow, want to come?" 

“I um... I don't...” 

“Why do you not rest, Miss Granger, a flower folds her petals does it not in order for her to retain her beauty for the next bright new dawn?”

Ginny turned to the sound of my voice. 

“Do I know you?” she asked narrowing her eyes, trying to work out who I was: _A Slytherin is taught to hide in plain sight from birth, by the time you work it out it will only be because I let you_. “You seem somewhat familiar?”

“I am Monsieur L'or Gourde,” I explained bowing and taking her hand in mine, raising it to my lips. I peeked through my fringe and eyelashes to observe her reaction as I softly brushed my lips against her slightly chafed knuckles. It was interesting that she did not so much as blush even as I was at my most disarming. I wondered if having the wizard of her dreams made her immune to my flatteries, or her powers of deduction were smarter than I anticipated? “Are you and Miss Granger close?” 

“We're _best_ friends,” Ginny replied coldly. She quickly snatched her hand back from my grip like my touch scorched her, she shook it slightly before inching closer to Harry who protectively hugged the witch close to his person. “I will defend her to the death!”

To prove her point she shrugged off her boyfriend and swiftly wedged herself between my chosen bride and I, maintaining a steely glare of fierce protectiveness in her dark brown eyes as she did so, showing through body language alone; _exactly_ how far she was willing to go for my Queen. Hmm – now I had another potential follower. Ginevra, you truly are the woman of the world are you not? It was then I turned my curious gaze to my prey; Hermione was patiently trying to calm the situation down and soften Miss Weasley’s aspect towards me.

I must admit I would find it hard to choose between them at this point. Who knows, one day I could have both. Why not?

Potter stepped up to also soothe his fire-haired temptress. I could see from here how weary he was. Everything about his frame screamed to me of exhaustion as he was definitely tired from being the one who had to fix the world after my mess. It was clear he was still in emotional agony from the battle, despite this he was still willing to cause another war to keep his friends from unsavoury influences, and it would if he foolishly harmed my Queen in any possible way. _Perhaps_ , I mused, _I had underestimated him_. If I had his support things would go on as smoothly as possible with no-one getting hurt. Once I had restored Severus vitality I would concentrate my energy on making friends with Harry Potter – thankfully I had a story laid out that would completely suck him in – if there was anything I was good at it was persuasion.

“Miss Weasley?” I questioned – she nodded in affirmation. “I do not desire to harm any part of Miss Granger. I am here to help the noble effort to bring a great pinnacle of education back to her former glory. I had only just met everyone here.”

“Good!” she snarled thrusting the tip of her wand at me. “I will make sure you do not.”

“Relax, Gin,” Harry sighed wiping his arm against his sweat ridden forehead. The scar was faint but there. A permanent mark of accidental power. “I am sure Monsieur L’or Gourde is genuine.” His surprisingly emerald green eyes sparkled mischievously when they landed on Ginevra. He took her hand in his and she welcomed him in his embrace. He publicly nibbled at her throat and her eyes fluttered in delight. They did make a handsome couple. “Gods, Gin,” he moaned as I watched his tongue lick a thin trail of sweat up the side of her throat to the corner of her mouth. “I am so looking forward to your mother's cottage pie and chips right now.”

“If you carry on like that you won’t have room for mum’s cooking,” Ginny was practically purring in Potter’s arms. 

“I will always have room for Molly’s food,” he said as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. He was almost grinding his hips against hers. She blushed prettily and curled her head under his chin. “Hermione are you coming to the Burrow?”

“Better not,” she sighed, “not with what happened last time.”

“If I could, I’d kill Ron for what he did to you, Hermione,” Ginny said. 

“Yeah well, he has to expand his emotional range just a _bit_ more before I consider going back to him and realise my body is mine to give to whom I want to.”

Interesting, I mused, Harry looked positively sheepish. “I am sorry,” he sighed stroking his girlfriend’s hair. “I did not mean to explode when you dumped Ron,” ah! So, Potter does hold this Ron in more esteem than with the glorious witch who practically saved his wand on more than one occasion. “Then I walked into your wing at Grimmauld Place and saw Lucius Malfoy walk out of your room wrapping a black silk robe around his body and smirking – only for you to follow him out also in a silk robe enthusiastically kissing him in front of me. Did you really have to wrap your legs around him?” 

“Hmm, so I could not express my joy in sex? He bought me back my _muggle_ parents. He held Crooky in his arms at the front door of Grimmauld – it was only polite to offer him a cup of tea. One thing led to another and, you know what, I do not regret it – in fact we've met since and...”

“All right, all right...” Harry raised his hands trying to stop her expressing details. Spoilsport! That information is crucial to me. “I just don't know how you can...” 

“I can say this for one thing – Slytherins make _excellent_ bed companions,” she asserted. She began to dream of her time with Lucius. Nice to know he had not lost his touch. “Let us just say they _know_ how to use their tool kits!”

Ginny giggled: “I may despise the blond prat but in Hermione's defence, if I were to sleep with a Slytherin it would have to be with the blond stallion.”

“My sister and my girlfriend...?” he feigned despair. “How you both know how to break my heart.”

“You are just wonderfully easy to tease little brother,” Hermione smiled, her eyes sparkling mischief and mirth, delicious little dimples either side of her luscious lips added to her faux-innocence, she was gorgeous. “What has Molly made for dessert?” 

Potter smiled and hugged Ginny tighter to his body. If I was still for the Pureblood agenda I would be pleased with his choice of bride. In some still corners of my heart I am. Better taste than his father at any rate. 

“Chocolate trifle!” 

I saw Hermione's lips slacken drooling at the thought. She was clearly a fan of Mrs Weasley's chocolate trifle. 

“Ch... choc... Chocolate...” 

“Trifle, Hermione,” Ginevra said. “Gooey chocolate cake pieces soaked in cherry brandy, topped with dark chocolate custard, topped with double cream sprinkled with twirls of dark ORANGE chocolate... Just. As. You. Like. It!” 

I saw her knee's weaken. Thank you, Miss Weasley, for that seduction technique. I catalogued Hermione's responses. 

“Oh Merlin, help my waistline!” 

I would like her a bit curvier before I took her, a good true woman's weight. She sucked her lower lip as she looked at Severus then to her friends, deciding between loyalty and a decent meal. I would go for the meal personally.

“I just do not wish for Headmaster Snape to wake up alone,” she sighed as she lowered her head to kiss his forehead. 

I tried hard to retain my jealousy. She would need reassurance I decided. “I promise you he would not wake up alone, Mademoiselle Granger,” I decided to pull her closer to me. I wanted to show Potter his friend had a great future marked out for her. “My dear sweet kind young woman – Snape...” 

“Headmaster Snape to you!” Potter turned to me his eyes flashing hatred. “Severus to those who _know_ and _care_ for his well-being, and just Snape to _nobody_!” 

Well, that was unexpected. A Potter defending him, well, Potter Sr would have conniptions. Perhaps he was his mother after all. “I do not believe we have been properly introduced,” I said smoothly. “I am Monsieur L'or Gourde,” I held my hand out for Potter to shake it.

“Harry Potter,” he said coolly assessing me. “You seem familiar somehow, but I cannot...” he narrowed his eyes the same way the Weaslette did. “Hmm,” he breathed out. “I am sure it will come to me.” 

“Mr Potter,” I smiled grasping his hand. “I must thank you from the bottom of my heart from killing that awful wizard,” I put in the exact amount of French joy and rapture into the gesture. “I come to Hogwarts to impart my knowledge in the next term, to be close to such brave and glorious youths and mould their minds further is going to be such a joy.” 

“As?” he arched an eyebrow sceptically.

“The D.A.D.A position. I understand you are desperately in need for one.”

“NO!” Potter yelled standing at the foot of Snape’s bed. His green eyes flashed with fierce protection for the comatose man in the hospital bed largely unaware of what was playing out beside his sick bed. “That position is Professor Snape’s. I will not see him deposed because…”

“Is he your Uncle? Or perhaps a man you may have a crush on?”

“THAT IS LIBEL” he yelled in outrage. “FYI: My relationship with Headmaster Snape may be tricky but I want – no _desire_ – him to be happy to live free of Voldemort and his poisonous rhetoric. My _respect_ of this man is now unending, and my trust is a _sturdy_ building protected against doubt and fear, he is also the _only_ man who probably gave any sort of damn about the fact that my mother died to stop a maniac from almost destroying _our_ world.”

Ah yes, Lily Potter, the woman who stopped me. The one that loved her son strongly enough that I was incapacitated as formless mist for 14 years. 

“I am aware how important he is to you by your actions, Mr Potter," I said gently. “I am, however, adept at the subject and you wish not to rush him to full recovery where something truly bad could happen in the process? I do not mind being an interim teacher.”

“It is good to know we are of one mind in this,” Harry said in a low voice. “Just remember I am training as an Auror and I _will_ make it my mission to investigate you. We have had all sorts of crooks, impostors and liars in this position,” was it just me or did he have a sibilance to his tone when he threatened me? “I may not be here in person the next year, but Hermione and Ginny will be – do not give me cause for suspicion and I _promise_ we will be friends.”

If I was a lesser person I would have been suitably afraid of such a threat, however as I am not I just offered a cool nod of acceptance. 

“Sorry about that,” Hermione said once Potter and Ginevra were out of the room on their way to their mouth-watering meal. “Are you sure you do not mind being left alone with Professor Snape?”

“Not at all Mademoiselle,” I smiled and bowed. “That I am doing so for an Angel I shall enjoy the task immensely, I have seen already, what a treasure you are to this school and for you, I would pluck the stars from the sky and adorn you in their glory.”

She ducked her head down to hide a hot blush. I knew if I reached out to touch her she’d be burning with pleasure, I had best compliment her often as it was clear she received little of those. Hermione would be easy to charm. As a student she’d be a source of pride, as my lover she’d shine above all else.

"The flattery is unnecessary,” she whispered. 

“What can I say,” I shrugged. “I am French, we see a goddess we flatter.”

Her shy smile endeared her to me more. I may not know love, but I comprehend the need to have an equal, and she was meant for me – I could see our life so clearly. I stepped aside so she could follow her friends to that mouth-watering dinner planned out and cooked by Mrs Weasley. Her meals were legendary, and Molly Prewitt was one I had earmarked before. She may have murdered Bellatrix and I was angry at the time, but I could not deny that she was a fine example of power when Bellatrix fell beneath her wand. Good job I was prepared to change tactics.

Once Hermione was out of the hospital, I turned my gaze to my favourite follower and smiled: “I think you have been sleeping long enough,” I murmured. “Time to rise to life my friend.” 

Quietly, I stepped to the right side of the bed, I stopped when his sleeping face was parallel to my naval to assess the situation. He was malnourished and weak, but I had potions to help with those problems – ones Hermione will assist me. With a sigh I reached into the left breast inner pocket of my light blue robes and brought out the anti-venom I spent three weeks brewing. Firmly, I massaged his jaws, softening the muscle and joints to open his mouth as I could guess they were hard shut by now through lack of use. Once his maw was relaxed enough I heard his lips pop open revealing his crooked teeth. I will help with those too, he can no longer neglect himself. In this new order he will be a public figure. With a slight wince I pushed my fingers inside his lips to begin working the muscle from the inside. It took a while and I was beginning to perspire with the effort but eventually, his jaw completely slackened, and I slipped my fingers between his teeth to keep them open. I bit into the cork stopper of the potions bottle and spat it out, I heard a thunk noise as it bounced off the clean flagstone floor. With a grunt I managed to slip the neck of the container into his mouth. I cradled his head like he was a baby, I tilted and cupped the back of his head as I also angled the bottle urging the tincture to fall into his mouth. When I could get as much of it in as I possibly could I took the bottle out and with wandless magic I whirled the thing away – it was probably in Borneo for all I cared. 

I massaged his throat now to ease the restorative into his system. His choking sound was good. It indicated life. “That’s it,” I urged softly allowing the liquid to travel further in his throat. I knew it was starting to work when his eyelids began to flutter. The second sign was the sight of the scar fading. Sweat started sheen my brow in nerves as I was scared I had not managed the exact amount needed. Improvising with potions was Severus forte not mine, after all. I was looking forward to a verbose friend. Hurriedly, I swiped my brow with my arm to stop my perspiration to fall on Severus nose.

Then, oh gods, Merlin, and Salazar I was never so happy to hear an admittedly disgusting sound before. Viciously vile hacking splurged forth from his throat. His coughing had spluttered out froth and phlegm. As my tenure of Lord Voldemort I’d seen much worse. One cannot be squeamish to pursue a life as a Dark Lord. 

The bandage around his neck oozed out the blood and poison – he was sweating profusely, and I could not help to be somewhat aroused by the sight of his body contorting wildly dripping with sweat. The way his skin pulled over his weakened muscles as he was thrashing on the bed. Tenderly, my mind touched with his, and I was seeing disturbing images in his head – his fever taking imagination to the strangest planes possible.

I held in a scream as he was now feeling the worst pain he’d ever suffered, and yet it was as if he was on the way out from the trap. Back to life? No, only one person had the cure to Nagini’s bite. He was now afraid, good his brain was already making connections. Further into the dark corners of his mind I saw other things. 

_He was completely naked, his impressive tumescence was standing like a soldier: who was awaiting orders from his general – then Miss Granger walked in from stage left, on impossibly high silver stilettos, with a black lace scalloped edging touching the bridge of her foot. Her eyes were heavily made-up in greens and silvers, her lips matched in silver sparkle – her nails were long and pointed the triangular tip painted dark red as if they were dipped in blood, the rest were shown to be a light pink to emphasise the crimson gleam. Her shapely legs were clad in thigh-hugging dark-pink leather trousers. Her white lacy poets top was cinched by an under-bust corset of white and pink roses. Her hair was wild over her naked shoulders and fell in a tangled root mass down her back._ Hmm, no wonder he did not want to wake up. 

_“Your sex kitten is here,” the image of her whimpered. “Where do you want me to be, sir?”_

Definitely time for you to wake up Severus Snape, your over-active imagination is taking over, and this is not healthy – listen from one who knows – I fell out of his mind and continued massaging the throat and I heard the audible gulp. I stepped back, wiping my brow from the sweat pouring from there. I quickly conjured up a huge jar of water and big tumblers. 

I poured us each a glass. I flopped inelegantly in my seat watching Severus eyelid’s flutter, shortly followed by a choking gasp, his body thrust up in feverish convulsions at the waist and hips. Drenched in sweat and panting maybe, but he slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly he tried to turn his head to survey the room he was in. I transfigured some plastic spoons into straws and put them in the glass of water and settled it on his breast bone and angled the straws to his, admittedly, gorgeous lips.

Thirst quenched he managed now to look up and gaze upon me: “My Lord?” he said in hushed and hoarse tones. “You…I…” 

I placed a finger on his lips and gazed into his wary orbs: “I am Monsieur now, no longer, my Lord – I saved you Severus because you have purpose and you were always my favourite just as you are of my new treasure.” 

“Wh…” 

“Miss Hermione Granger?” I questioned with a smirk and an arched eyebrow. “You kept her secret from me Severus…”

“Mo-Mo-Mons…” he clearly could not talk properly yet, he needed a great deal more rest. “Monsieur,” he gulped.

“Shh,” I whispered quietly. I sang in Parseltongue to soothe Severus to sleep. “I will tease you later.  You can relax in peaceful, silvered slumber…” 

A light snore indicated that he had done just so. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

As sleep took me my last thoughts were with what Hermione was doing and how she may be guzzling down that meal. In my depraved head, I watched her, licking a spoon clean from that delicious sounding trifle, only to reveal a splodge of cream on the tip of her pert, sweet nose… 

Oh sweet Circe – I had intended to be noble and court her slowly, but she has beguiled me so quickly.

I must make her mine! 

She has consumed me as no other thing has… and I want to be fully immersed in her secrets.

I closed my eyes to the image of her in Slytherin colours as we held bonding rites. Hermione L’or Gourde, (or Hermione Riddle), whatever her name would be. The world would bow down to her and kiss the ground she deigns to step on. 

I have been made good looking, due to her cat and Lucius contribution. I have been re-acquainted with the lusts of the flesh and the need for food, water, and sex has never been so prevalent. Maybe that is why I am suddenly finding Severus aesthetically pleasing despite never being attracted to men before.

Thankfully, Hogwarts was good on the victuals front as to the pleasures of the flesh…

I would have to play my card soon for there will be many boys here that will revere her for a hero and decide she should be theirs. Or their parents would pressure their children to marry her. Some nasty old man (even older than me seriously there are some wizards that are like 200 and can still reproduce) could also try and wheedle a law out that would strap her towards him. I felt the hard clenched of my jaw in anger and his dark eyes sparkled with malevolent intention. 

No, I would not be able to work through a year of that display. I am aware she is of age – an adult that is in a position to make her own decisions. Besides no one could accuse her of sleeping for grades as she has proven herself time and again. It all whittles down to how well Severus would have my back if some parents were scandalised if we were discovered. 

I wanted her, and people should remember how virulent and determined a Tom Cat is when on the prowl, and I am on that path. I picked up her scent and all I have to do is lay in wait for her to come to me, purring my name, as I do what a Tom Cat does and pin her down by my teeth on the back of her neck and thrust into her until we come together! 

Mon petit minou indeed, for what other term of endearment suited her so well? Even a kittens claw can pierce flesh and draw blood.

Yes, I will be the DADA professor, I will guide the brats, but I will also endear Hermione completely. 

To some of my former comrades she’d be lewdly considered as Job Satisfaction but hell – you cannot expect adults looking at younger adults and desiring them? I will…

I get what I want! 

I want her!

Own her as no other has been owned before.

Severus opened his eyes, a little sleepily. “How are you, Severus?” 

“I feel no pain except aches and probably bed sores,” he sniped ungratefully. “Forgive me,” he lowered his lashes in contrite manner. 

“It is of no consequence,” I said a little dismissively. “I am just glad that Mademoiselle Granger got to you in time.” 

“Granger? Wh…” 

“You have earned hers and Potters undivided loyalty, Severus.” I smirked at the way his eyes stared at me horridly. 

“I can withstand Miss Granger’s estimation but Potter’s…” 

“You will have to withstand it, Severus, I need them!” 

“Need them, for what?” one look into my eyes made him aware that was not a question he was going to be privy a reply from me to that. “All right,” he sighed. “Monsieur, what now?”

“Now I ensnare a wife,” I answered. “As you should too.” 

“Yes, my Lord, but who?” 

“When your strength is up I suggest you begin looking, I will reinstate you as a Prince – you can think of a little witch can you not?” 

“Yes Monsieur but… you said…”

“I have mine in mind already, Severus. Now,” I said standing up straightening my robes. “I shall alert Madam Pomfrey and you will eat whatever she gives you. There are other things I would like to change about you but now is not the time. Relax, eat, dream and Severus,” he looked up displaying an unhealthy amount of fear. “I reiterate, you have gained Potter’s trust and Granger’s admiration. Do not let them down.”

“Yes Monsieur,” he murmured.

“Good,” I said coldly, I had shown enough emotion today. I needed to sleep.

I was near the entrance of the Great Hall when Minerva stopped me by shouting my name.

“Is it true, Severus is awake?”

“He is madam, but severely underweight and neglected.”

“Poppy and I will make sure he is looked after, thank you again for being here in the nick of time. How will you get here for September?” 

“I thought I would take the ride on the train rather than Apparate. Now, if you do not mind I have to get my own rest.”

“Of course,” she said as I turned around on my heel and walked out with my robes billowing behind me.

Once I was out of sight of the school I apparated back to Malfoy Manor. My first true day with my new identity had been a great success. I walked up to my wing of the house uninterrupted. When I entered the powder blue bed chamber I finally let out a huge sigh of relief at how well everything went today.

From saving Hermione to reviving Severus I had done too much good – the moment I get Hermione alone, be it on the tra…yes, on the train! 

I slipped into my own silver slumber in the moon’s ray shining through the big windows in the manor. I turned on my back, wandlessly and wordlessly I lazily vanished my clothes. Images of my Queen soothed me to a resting peace, gloriously naked in nothing but her school tie. Flushed and purring as she was enthusiastically riding me in perfect rhythm to the chugging of the train as we made our way to Hogwarts, played through my mind. I was eager to keep on dreaming.

A small smile crept along my face.

With a contented sigh, the lovely motions of her swaying breasts hypnotising me, I continued dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want that chocolate trifle that Mrs Weasley makes from scratch... I can leave the main meal but, knowing Molly she'd make me eat the cottage pie and brussel sprouts... (bleurgh) Still, I love Mrs Weasley... 
> 
> Next chapter: The train ride and the steam in steam train comes to pass

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be longer than this.
> 
> If anyone wants to offer something like art work, aesthetics, or ideas I would say go ahead, - I want to urge others creativity. I can not draw so would love some fanart that will be added to the story.


End file.
